Page 6 of Asylum
“Follow me. While you’re showering, I will bring in clothes.” She leads me to the bathing area, halting at the entrance. “Off you go.”
She watches me closely as I hesitantly move inside the room, my eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. The open space has yellow lighting, every wall covered in calcium stains, the odor of mildew overpowering.
“I don’t hear water running, Miss Sterling. Hurry up!” The nurse’s impatient voice echoes through the room, and it snaps me into motion. Removing my white gown and white, cotton underwear, I place them on the sink. A few feet away, the shower head hangs from the wall, and I turn the knob, waiting a few moments for hot water that never comes. Grime covers most of the holes in the head, the stream of water spraying in all different directions. Gritting my teeth, I dive under the ice-cold water, my breath hitching as it beats against my skin. Glancing to the side, I see a small bottle of dishwashing detergent and a new bar of soap.
Great.
I might as well shave my head because my hair won’t survive without conditioner. It sounds bratty to complain aboutsomething so trivial while I’m trapped in this hell, but even the previous hospital had fucking conditioner.
In record time, I scrub my hair with the detergent and my body with the bar of soap. They both smell terrible, and it’s one more thing chipping away at my humanity. I’m a woman, but I’ve been used for a man’s pleasure, thrown into a mental institution when I fought back, and quickly stripped of any feminine pleasantry most people take for granted. Before my mind can spiral any further, I turn off the shower spray and snatch the towel from the sink, courtesy of Nurse Carter.
How I missed her sneaking in here, I’m not sure. My eyes must’ve been closed to endure the frigid temperature of the water. My body shivers as I move the towel over my body, wrapping it around my hair once I’m dry. I slip on the clean underwear she brought in, and pick up the fresh gown, focusing on the little blue shapes adorning it.
“Hurry, Miss Sterling. You don’t want to keep Dr. Stone waiting.”
I startle at the sound of her voice, using the gown to cover my body as if she hasn’t already seen me. “Yes ma’am.” I quickly guide the garment over my head, the rough material scratchy against my skin on its way down, coming to rest right below my knees. Removing the towel from my head, I turn towards her as she moves further into the room. “Nurse Carter, do you know where my things are from the previous facility?”
She cocks an eyebrow, fisting her hips. “What things?”
“I had a toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, lotion, and a hairbrush.”
She rolls her eyes. “We don’t primp here, Miss Sterling. Your things were given to Dr. Stone. He will let you have them as he sees fit.”
There are no mirrors in this room, but I imagine my hair looks like a rat’s nest sitting on top of my head. I don’t see howbrushing your hair and teeth is considered primping, but I keep my mouth shut, sliding my feet inside the white slippers she’s provided. I spot a hamper next to the wall, and I toss the towel and my dirty garments into it as I follow her out.
The hallway in this part of the building is different from where I came in. It was bright and blinding where this is dark and creepy. I stay close to Nurse Carter as I look at each door, counting them in my head to calm my nerves. The metal doors have a covered slot in the middle, just big enough to slide a tray through. I think about what kind of people are trapped behind each door.
Are they truly criminally insane?
Murderers? Rapists?
Or are they like me?
A product of their environment deemed unfit for society and already forgotten.
We reach the end of the hall, the nurse knocking loudly on a door that looks different from the rest. It’s wooden, less secure, and more inviting.
“Come in.”
Nurse Carter opens the door, nodding her head for me to go inside. As I cross the threshold, Dr. Stone sits at his desk, and I stop in front of it, my hands clasped behind my back. The door clicks behind me, and he looks up, a bright smile lighting his face, it almost looks genuine.
Almost.
His words from yesterday echo in my mind, and I know I have to be on guard around him.
“Olivia, good to see you.” He stands, making his way around the desk, heading for the door. He flips the lock into place, his eyes finding mine as he turns around. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing me with interest. “Is something bothering you?”
He’s being less of an asshole than yesterday. Maybe it was a scare tactic to keep the patients in line. I’m sure some of them are difficult considering some of them are truly depraved. Intimidation upon meeting him could deter bad behavior, but honestly, it just pissed me off. I don’t want any problems while I’m here, so if I have to eat a little crow to keep him happy, I’ll play the part.
He watches me expectantly, and I remember he asked me a question. Not sure how to answer, I reply with the first thing that comes to mind. “Nurse Carter said you have my things.” I point to my unbrushed hair, and he smirks.
“I inspected your belongings of course to make sure you didn’t have anything prohibited. What specifically do you need?”
“I would like it all, but if that’s a problem, I’d like my deodorant, hairbrush, lotion, toothpaste, and toothbrush. How do I get more when I run out?”
“You’ll let me know.”
Exhaling slowly, I’m grateful for the use of basic hygienic products. “Can I have them now? I just took a shower, and if I don’t brush my hair, I might as well shave it off. I don’t know how it’ll survive without conditioner.” His eyes darken, and I fear I’ve said something to upset him. “I’m not a brat trying to primp, I only need the basics.”